


A Taste of Apple Pie

by Halmaithor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Moving On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 08:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21223736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halmaithor/pseuds/Halmaithor
Summary: Sam Winchester is thirty-four when he loses Dean for good.Moving on is never easy, but it's always possible.





	1. Loss

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first ever fic I wrote which had multiple parts, and it remains the longest thing I've written to date except for the year I did NaNoWriMo. It's also one of my personal favourites.   
I wrote it during the airing of season 11, so it's set after Lucifer and the Darkness have been dealt with in some way and life for the Winchesters has returned to as close to normal as it ever gets.  
Please enjoy!

Sam is thirty-four when he loses Dean for good.

They’re hunting a harpy in Colorado. They’ve been out in the forest since nine this morning, and it’s late afternoon now. There’s no sign of its nest - nor the missing (presumably dead) victims - and Sam’s been thinking for a while that they ought to turn back, before the sun starts to set and they have to stumble back to the car in the dark.

He’s only just opened his mouth to speak when they hear a rustling above and to the right. They still, swinging their weapons in unison up to the source of the noise, before starting to move together into defensive position, back to back.   
They don’t get there quick enough. A piercing shriek from the left has Sam spinning back, only to see the creature land on top of Dean, knocking him to the ground.

Sam fires a second later, buries a silver bullet in its brain. When Dean doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound, he runs over and unceremoniously shoves the dead harpy to one side. ‘Dean? You al-’

He stutters to a stop when he sees it. One smooth gash across Dean’s throat, pouring with already-slowing blood. Bubbling where it caught his windpipe.

Sam clamps his hands down on the wound, but he already knows he can’t fix this, already knows it’s too much blood. Doesn’t stop him from babbling, though, reassurances spilling out of his mouth. ‘Alright, alright, it’s bad, but we’ll fix it. I’ll fix it. You’ll be fine, you’re gonna be okay - I’ll find a way, but you gotta hang in there, Dean, okay? Okay?’   
Dean’s not focusing properly, doesn’t seem to be hearing anything. His eyes don’t leave his brother, though.   
Sam doesn’t know how he does it, but he manages a smile. ‘Hey. Yeah, that’s right, look at me, okay?’ He moves his left hand up to Dean’s face, cradling it, and it’s like he’s holding on for all he’s worth with that light touch. ‘You’re okay, I gotcha. Harpy’s dead, and we can go home now, right? We can go home. Job’s finished, you’re okay, we’re okay.’ He’s dropped his voice to a near-whisper. ‘I gotcha.’

A few moments later, he sees that the blood isn’t bubbling at the windpipe anymore, doesn’t seem to be flowing from the wound. He knows, but he moves his fingers to the pulse point anyway, feels the skin cool with fresh blood and perfectly still. It’s only then that the tears start, because he’s seen this a hundred times but it never gets easier, never, and then he’s screaming for Cas or God or _anyone_ to come help him, help Dean, _stop this_.   
But Cas still can’t teleport, even if he hears Sam’s prayers, he’s too weak because when Lucifer was ejected he didn’t go quietly; and apparently no-one else is listening, because when Sam’s shouts trail off into sobs, he’s still alone with his brother’s body.

Then suddenly he isn’t. Sam looks up and sees an all-too-familiar but none-too-welcome figure, and now he thinks being alone was preferable.  
He doesn’t know why Billie lets him see her - maybe he’s dying too, he thinks. And maybe that’s not such a bad thing. But, whatever her reason is, she doesn’t say, and she doesn’t linger - she just gives him an odd look, almost like sympathy.

By the time he hears Cas crashing through the undergrowth, shouting his name, it’s nearly dawn. The reaper - and Dean - are long gone.

***

Dean is thirty-eight when he dies. Nowhere near old enough for it to be fair by most standards, but not exactly young, for a hunter.

He doesn’t remember what happened. One moment he was on a hunt, the next he’s watching in horror as Sam crouches over his body, crying so hard he’s barely breathing.   
'Dean.’ He knows that voice, knows why she’s here. But he can’t seem to tear himself away from Sam.   
Billie steps into his field of view. 'Dean, it’s time.’  
He nods, still transfixed by the scene before him. 'I know, just… Just give me a minute. Please.’  
'Dean-’  
'One damn minute!’ he shouts, looking at the reaper, but only briefly. 'This is it, right? No second chances. So if this is the last time I’m gonna see-’ He swallows. 'The Empty’ll still be there in a goddamn minute.’

Billie considers him for a second. 'Actually… there’s been a slight change of plan, Mario.’  
'What? What d'you mean?’  
'A change in destination. You boys were… useful, dealing with the Darkness the way you did.’  
Dean scoffs. 'Sure. If by 'useful’ you mean when Sam single-handedly saved your ass. Amara was about three seconds away from sucking up whatever passes for your soul when he got the drop on her.’  
Billie looks disgruntled. 'Point is, I repay my debts, Winchester. Balance - it’s a big thing with reapers, and the last thing I need is you two calling in the favour from the afterlife, so listen up. I meant it when I said you boys can’t keep coming back like you have done. But it’s possible I can give you a more… _comfortable_ permanent rest.’  
Dean meets her eyes, but he still can’t quite believe it. 'You mean Heaven?’  
'Precisely. But you have to come now, Dean. I’ve got more work to do, and I’d hate to leave you trapped here.’   
That last part doesn’t sound quite sincere, but Dean doesn’t question it. He just takes one last look at Sam, then nods. 'Yeah. Okay. I’m ready.’ He isn’t, really, but Heaven means he’ll see Sam again, and he’s half-afraid the reaper will retract the offer if he doesn’t hurry up.

He steps through the light where Billie appeared, and sees in his peripheral vision when she hesitates, looking at Sam. Then it’s all gone.

***

Sam doesn’t go home for a while.

Cas takes a minute when he reaches them, stunned by the loss. But he manages to persuade Sam to stand up, and doesn’t say anything when Sam refuses help in carrying Dean to the car. He leads their little convoy all the way back to Lebanon, knowing where to go without asking, and Sam drives the Impala with Dean stretched out in the back.

They reach the wooded area just outside the Bunker, and Sam’s getting really sick of forests but if you’re going to have a hunter’s funeral, you need to build a pyre.  
Cas starts the construction while Sam crawls into the back of the car with the first aid kit, and cleans up as much of the blood as he can before he gets to work stitching the gash through his brother’s neck. It’s cramped conditions to say the least, and it would be far, far better to do this inside, but Sam can’t bring himself to go in right now, to see the books they left on the table before they made the drive west, the coffee cup from when Dean sat down that morning and nearly spilled it over Sam’s notes-

Dean’s skin tears a little as Sam pulls a stitch, hard, before snapping back into focus, laying a hand on Dean’s head and whispering an apology.

It feels almost stupid, patching Dean up when they’re about to burn his bones anyway. But he has to do it, has to do this for Dean. He owes him that much.  
When he’s done, Sam lays his head down on Dean’s shoulder, one hand on his brother’s chest and another on his head, and just breathes.

He stays there until Cas comes to get him. 'The pyre’s built, Sam.’ His voice is hushed, and more gravelly than usual, whether from grief or residual exhaustion from what he’s been through lately.

He helps Sam wrap the body and set Dean on the pile of wood. It’s Cas who lights it, when Sam reaches forward and then freezes because he can’t bring himself to do it.

They stand there, just watching the flames until there’s nothing left. Neither of them say a word.

When the embers aren’t glowing anymore, Sam is the first to turn away. He heads for Cas’ car, not even looking at the other vehicle except to grab a bag out of the trunk, and then he starts driving.  
Cas watches him go.

***

Missouri Moseley is sixty-eight when Sam Winchester turns up on her doorstep one afternoon.

She senses him from damn near half a mile off, of course - and thinks to herself that despair that thick would be felt by anyone, not just a psychic. She fears the worst, but it’s not until Sam pulls up in an unfamiliar car and she sees his face that she knows for certain, can read his thoughts and confirm that fear. She claps a hand to her mouth and shuts her eyes. Damn it all, she liked that kid, right from when he walked in to her house as a goofy-looking little boy trailing close behind his daddy. She composes herself, because however sad she is to hear the news, Sam’s the one whose world has fallen apart. And not for the first time, from what she’s gathered.

Sam knocks a few seconds later, and she opens the door. Up close, he looks even more wrecked. He’s confused - probably just drove in circles until he saw somewhere he knew, the poor thing - and frowns down at her. 'Missouri. Uh- I…’

She shakes her head. What’s the point in her abilities if she’s gonna make him explain himself anyway? Boy’s got enough to deal with. 'Why don’t you come in, honey?’

She makes sure he eats something, drinks some water, then lays him down on her couch when she sees how long it’s been since he slept - she doubts he’d make it upstairs to the guest bed. All the while she can hear the screaming but muffled noise in Sam’s head - shock; overwhelming, almost unrecognisable grief; the unwillingness to go home, now that Dean’s not there to share it with.   
She goes about her business quietly, feeling his thoughts become more organised as he pulls himself together a little bit, moves past the worst of the confusion and gets a little more coherent, before he finally drifts to sleep.

When she comes down the next morning, the dishes are done (and her heart aches, to see such kindness from someone who’d be entitled to a little self-absorption right now). There’s a note on the table bearing two words - _Thank you_. The car is gone.

Missouri remembers what powerful abilities Sam used to show, and hopes that if there’s any of that remaining - though she couldn’t see any sign of them - he left the house knowing he was welcome back any time.

***

Castiel lost track a long time ago of how old he is - age is inconsequential to the divine - but he knows that he’s rarely felt as much pain as he does now, as he did when he saw exactly what had happened to Dean.   
But he hasn’t seen Sam in a couple of days, and upon realising that he decides that grief or no grief, it’s time to take care of a piece of urgent business.

He strides into Crowley’s base on Earth without so much as a glance to any demon there. He’s an Angel of the Lord, and he just lost one of his best friends, so if they think they can stop him just let them try. But - wisely - they steer clear, disappearing instead to presumably warn their king of the intruder’s approach.

Castiel smashes the final door in with no more than a thought.

Crowley seems unperturbed, though, which is even more infuriating. 'Castiel. To what do we owe the pleasure?’ He gestures to the door, which is now lying in fragments around the frame. 'Trouble in Paradise?’  
'You know why I’m here.’  
With a wave of his hand, Crowley dismisses the other demons, and then strolls over to Castiel. 'Ah. Is this my notification? A little late, I’m afraid. Sorry to hear about Squirrel.’  
'No. You’re not.’  
A shrug. 'Like I told you once before - I’m not sentimental. Though, all the same, I’m a little offended I wasn’t invited to the funeral.’ He waits a moment, before asking impatiently, 'Well? Is that it? Or are you actually here to smite me this time?’

The thought has crossed Castiel’s mind more than once, and that’s just during this conversation. But he shakes his head. 'No. I’m here to give you a warning.’  
'A warning? Do enlighten me.’  
'It’s about Sam. As you so …_crudely_ pointed out, Dean is gone. And you being you, I’m sure it’s occurred to you by now-’  
'What? That one Winchester makes for a far less useful ally, and a much easier target?’

Crowley is smirking, but it falls a little when the angel steps closer. Not too close, because he knows that Crowley carries an angel blade - though it was never meant for demons to wield - and what Castiel is about to say will carry no weight whatsoever if he ends up dead. But he draws himself up to his full height, feeling the weight of his wings spread behind him in the most powerful stance he can muster before he continues speaking. 'I’m here to remind you that while Sam has lost his brother, he is not alone. He is not unprotected. And if you attempt to harm him, or someone he values, I will destroy you.’  
'Hm. And why, pray tell, don’t you just 'destroy me’ now? If you’re so sure that I mean your pet any harm.’  
'You are… a known variable,’ Castiel says, grudgingly. 'If I kill you, another will simply take your place, and it may well be someone stupid enough to try something. You are an abomination of the worst kind, Crowley - but you are, at least, smart enough to know that _I am not bluffing_.’

If the demon is nervous, he doesn’t show it, merely raising his eyebrows before wandering back to his throne. 'You’ve made your point, Columbo. Rest assured, the alliance I made with Sam - ah, you weren’t here. Well, back when Lucifer was riding you around like a BMX, the two of them and I came to an agreement in order to get rid of our little Darkness problem. It still stands, to a certain degree. If he leaves me alone, I’ll leave him alone.’ He gives a mock-salute. 'Scout’s honour.’

Castiel glares at Crowley - but nods, satisfied, then turns and walks out.

***

Time passes differently in Heaven, so Dean has no idea how long he’s been there by the time Ash shows up.

The mirage of Mary Winchester disappears as Ash approaches, greeting Dean with a great big grin on his face. 'Dean! Welcome back to the party!’  
Dean smiles. 'Hey, Ash. 'Bout damn time you showed up. I was starting to feel left out.’  
'No way, man. Jo’d never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t come get you.’ He laughs. 'So, you finally bit the dust, huh? What got ya, a bus?’  
'Uh, harpy, I guess. Don’t really remember it, but that’s what we were hunting.’  
Ash looks surprised. 'Huh.’  
'What?’  
'Nothin’, just… You going out on a hunt, I wasn’t exactly expecting you to show up solo.’  
Dean sobers. 'Yeah, well. Sam got out okay, from what I saw.’ Sam’s alive, and that’s fantastic - hell, it’s news he would’ve done anything to hear more than once in his life.

But Dean suspects that he’s been here closer to hours than weeks, Earth-time, and damn if he doesn’t miss the kid already.

Ash sees that he’s touched a nerve, and changes the subject. 'Well, if you’re stayin’ this time… you comin’ to the Roadhouse?’  
Dean welcomes the distraction gratefully. 'Lead the way. Ellen there, too?’  
'What, you think she’d let us have the run of the place ourselves? Course she’s there. Your parents, too.’  
Dean stops dead, his mouth working uselessly for a moment before he manages to say, 'My mom’s here? I mean, I kinda figured, with Dad… I thought maybe Mom didn’t make it. She - her spirit - went head to head with a poltergeist…’   
Ash shrugs. 'I don’t know what to tell you, man. I guess someone upstairs must like her.’ He waves for Dean to follow him. 'Why don’t you come see for yourself?’

***

Dean’s been dead for a week by the time Sam comes home.

After Missouri’s house, he drives aimlessly for a while longer, only stopping for gas, trying to clear his head so he can even begin to process how drastically the world’s changed. He sleeps in the car that night. It makes him think of all the times he and Dean camped out in the Impala, the 'Winchester Motel’ as Dean called it, but it’s still far less impossible a prospect than getting a single motel room, or - even worse - driving home and having to walk past Dean’s room to reach his own.

The next morning, he decides on a destination.   
Jody Mills looks happy to see him - for about a second. Then she’s ushering him inside, sitting him down, and asking 'Is it Dean?’, and Sam wonders whether she knows him well or if it’s just that obvious that he’s walking around with half of himself missing.

Sam tells her what happened, and when she starts crying he isn’t too surprised to find that he’s got a few tears left in him too. But they regain composure quickly - Jody because she’s strong and matter-of-fact when someone needs her, Sam simply because he’s just too exhausted to grieve much right now.   
They sit in silence for a while, Jody clearly wanting to comfort him, but knowing the Winchesters for so long means knowing there’s absolutely nothing she can say.

When Sam asks if she needs help with anything, she looks surprised, then starts to say no, it’s fine - but then she seems to understand it, probably sees in Sam’s expression how desperately he needs to _do_ something. So instead she tells him that the lightbulb in Alex’s bedroom just went last night, actually, and as he can reach it…

By the time school lets out, Sam’s changed three lightbulbs, cleaned the dinner table and all the kitchen side, and tightened any door hinge that was fractionally loose. Jody goes to pick up the girls, and clearly explains the situation, because when they get home they’re quiet, and don’t say any more than 'Hi, Sam’ before giving him space.

It’s nice of them, and he knows they empathise. They’re here in the first place because they lost their families, and he wonders if that’s why he was drawn here, not just a half-baked idea that he should probably tell Jody in person.   
But this is their home, not his, and they shouldn’t have to tiptoe around it for his sake. So he goes to Jody, and thanks her for her hospitality (she half-smiles, because Sam doing work around the house isn’t exactly what she’d call hospitality), but says he ought to get going.

She grows more serious then. 'Right. Of course, you’ll want to be getting home.’ Sam flinches, and she frowns. 'What?’  
'I… Nothing. I just- can’t go home right now. It’ll be too quiet, too…’  
'Empty?’ She suggests, and Sam nods, even as he shivers at the word. 'Alright, then. Where are you going?’  
'I don’t know.’  
'Well, that settles it. You can stay here.’  
He begins to protest. 'I wouldn’t want to intrude-’  
'No, none of that.’ She continues more gently. 'Sam, you can go if you want, of course. But don’t feel like you have to for our sakes. If you want to stay for a while, you’re more than welcome.’

Sam lets himself think about it - staying somewhere he knows, but that isn’t as painful to be in as his own home or a motel room or even a car. Surrounded by people who know how it feels to have your last remaining relative snatched away by something supernatural; people who won’t press him to talk about it but will just be there, understanding him.  
Jody smiles a little. 'Come on, what would Bobby say if I let you go wandering off on your own right now?’ _What would Dean say?_, she doesn’t ask. But they’re both thinking it.

Sam nods. 'If you’re sure… Then yes. Thank you.’

And so he stays for another few days. He helps Jody out however he can, because it feels good to do something productive, and because he’s grateful to her and the girls for letting him into their home, into their lives for a while. He drops the girls off at school, he does housework and small maintenance jobs, helps with the cooking. When he finds himself without something to do, he walks around the area, thinking - or trying not to. And slowly, he finds that though the weight of his grief is still huge, it doesn’t threaten to crush him at every turn. He can compartmentalise, he can function.

It’s over breakfast that last day when he realises that he needs to go home. He’s sitting opposite Claire, and when she turns her head towards Jody, the resemblance to her father is striking. Sam suddenly thinks of Cas, who just got free of possession by _Lucifer_, who received a panicked prayer from Sam on that awful day and came as fast as he possibly could, still arriving much too late to save his best friend’s life. He thinks of how over the years, Cas has become as much family to the Winchesters as Bobby was.

Sam thinks that maybe he’s not the only one who lost a brother that day.

Once lunch is finished, Sam clears the table, before packing his things and saying his goodbyes. Jody embraces him tightly, and tells him to call her anytime.

Once he’s in the car, he clears his throat. 'Cas? You there?’ Pause. 'I’m, uh… I’m coming home, okay? I’ll be there soon.’  
Sam starts the car, heading for the last of his family - and away from the house where, unbeknownst to him, three people are now curled up on the sofa, watching _Caddyshack_.

***

Castiel is sat at the map table when Sam arrives.

He watches as Sam descends the stairs, slowly, avoiding looking up until he gets to the table and sits opposite. 'Sam.’  
'Hey, Cas. How’re you holding up?’

The question surprises him. ’…As well as can be expected. You?’ He still doesn’t quite understand why it’s customary to ask in return - any being possessed with empathy could understand that Sam must still be in great emotional turmoil. But Castiel does know that you ask that because you care about someone, and so he does.  
'Same here, I guess.’ Sam looks uncomfortable - embarrassed, even. 'I’m, uh… I’m sorry for taking off before. I just couldn’t…’ He trails off.  
'You don’t need to explain, Sam. Given the circumstances, you should be doing whatever helps you.’  
'Yeah. Yeah, it did help, I think. A little.’ He clears his throat. 'I wasn’t trying to get away from you or anything, though, just this place. I think we ought to stick together, you know? Now that… Now it’s just the two of us.’

Castiel just looks at him for a moment. He knew, of course, that the Winchesters valued him, that he’d been given an unusually complete welcome into their family. After he was freed of Lucifer, they’d pulled him in closer still, willing him to understand. He was important to them, they didn’t want to lose him, so _never do something that damn stupid again, alright?_

But without Dean, the angel had feared that their arrangement would fall apart. He’s ashamed of that now - he should have had more faith in Sam.

'What do we do now?’ Castiel’s more wondering out loud than actually expecting an answer.   
But Sam looks oddly determined. 'Well, there is one thing.’

***

They’ve been driving for fifteen minutes when Cas speaks up. 'Sam… Are you certain you are prepared for this?’

Sam looks over briefly, feels the weight of Dean’s favourite handgun in his pocket. 'No. Not in the least. But I have to do this, Cas.’ They’re in the angel’s car, because neither of them can face the Impala right now - not to mention how they’ll feel after they complete their mission. But Sam’s driving, because it’ll be a while before he stops expecting to see Dean on his left when he’s riding shotgun. If he ever even reaches that point. 'If Dean’s in the Empty, chances are Pryce won’t be able to reach him, but if he’s somewhere else…’ _I’ll be able to talk to him again, hear his voice. And I’m not sure which outcome I’m more scared of. _'Either way, I have to check. Last time I made assumptions about this kind of thing, you two ended up stranded in Purgatory.’

Cas looks puzzled. 'Assumptions?’  
'Cas, when you two disappeared, I had no idea you were in Purgatory. I thought you were both dead - you wherever dead angels end up, and Dean…’  
'In Heaven,’ Cas realises.   
Sam turns to him again, and says almost pleadingly, 'I wouldn’t have left you guys there if I had any idea. You know that, right?’  
'Honestly, I never gave it much thought. But I believe you.’  
Sam nods, relieved. 'So that’s why this time, I have to check. I won’t let that sort of thing happen again.’  
'Sam. What happened then wasn’t your fault.’ Cas speaks more quietly when he adds, 'And Dean forgave you that mistake.’  
Sam swallows. 'I know, Cas. But this is still my responsibility. Reapers aren’t all-powerful - what happened to Bobby proved that. He was never meant to end up in Hell, but Crowley took him anyway. If something similar’s happened, and Dean’s in Hell or even Purgatory - if someone’s screwed the 'cosmic balance’ or whatever again - I have to get him out. We have to get him out,’ he amends.

Cas is silent a moment, then asks, 'And what if we don’t get a response, or if Dean tells us he’s in the Empty? There truly is no coming back from that, Sam.’ His voice is rough. 'Are you going to be able to accept that?’  
Sam stares at the road. 'I don’t know, Cas,’ he admits. 'I don’t know.’

Cas may not be the best at non-verbal communication, but when he reaches over and grasps Sam’s shoulder, it sounds a lot like _me neither_.

***

Oliver Pryce is getting too old for this crap.

It’s the colours that clue him in first - the Angel. (And heck, that’s _still_ ridiculous.) The hues start to flash across his consciousness, familiar if a little more muted this time. A few seconds later, he sees in Sam’s mind why that is, and why he’s come. 'Unbelievable,’ he grumbles. 'I’m a retired psychic, not a damn telephone line.’

But he’s a little scared of these guys, if he’s honest, and that’s _before_ he factors in their recent loss. So when they ring the doorbell, he opens the door, waves off the explanation, and says 'Let’s get on with it.’

Still, scared or not, they’d better not turn up for another 'favour’ anytime soon.

***

Sam’s fourteen - if Dean remembers correctly - in this memory.

He looks tiny behind the wheel of the car, only just beginning the (frankly incredible) growth spurts of his teen years that put him at his impressive adult height. They’re in the middle of nowhere - which is a good thing, given how fast they’re going - and the sun’s just starting to head for the west. John had both his sons learn to drive as early as possible, because if it’s an important skill for any adult, it’s vital for a hunter.   
Sam looks nervous as hell, but elated. He chafed under their dad’s training at this age - hence Dean teaching him how to drive - but he’d been looking forward to this for weeks.

Suddenly, Dean feels a lurch as the car stops dead. On Earth, he’d have yelled at Sam to be careful with his baby, but now he just laughs. 'Whoa, Sam, easy on the brakes.’

But Sam’s not there any more. Dean’s alone in the car.

'The hell?’ Dean mutters. 'Faulty playback reel or something?’  
The radio crackles to life, and amidst the static, he hears, _'Dean?’_  
He stares at it for a moment, because that’s Sam’s voice. Not the teenage Sam he was just with, but Sam as an adult.  
_'Dean? Dean, are you there?’_  
He swallows hard before he can reply. 'Sam? That really you?’  
_'Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.’_ There’s tangible relief in his brother’s voice, but it’s replaced by urgency and a little fear when he asks, _'Dean, listen - where are you?’_

Just for a moment, he’s taken aback by the question - it’s not like he’s missing, Sam was right there when he died - until he remembers that Sam doesn’t know about that last conversation with Billie. He smiles. 'It’s alright, Sammy - seems our friend had a change of heart. Sent me upstairs.’  
_'Heaven?’_ He sounds odd - like this is all a bit much for him to handle, which Dean completely gets. There’s also a touch of something like disappointment, and when he thinks about it, Dean gets that too.  
A new voice. _'That’s good news, Dean.’_  
Dean smiles even wider. 'Hey, Cas. You guys okay?’  
_’…As well as we can be, all things considered,’_ Cas says carefully.

When Sam speaks again, he sounds more in control, if still a little choked up. _'Dean, I don’t know how long we can keep this line open, but… D'you have a minute? Just to talk?’_  
Dean nods, and finds himself leaning in towards the radio. 'Yeah, Sammy. I’ve got time.’

***

Sam’s thirty-four, but right now he feels about ninety.

The psychic link had lasted around twenty minutes, in the end. Not a long time, but more than Sam could ever have hoped for. A chance to find out that Dean was okay - better than okay, really. In Heaven with Charlie, the Harvelles, Bobby, Dad… even _Mom_, and while Sam didn’t share Dean’s obvious wonder at that fact - he’d always hoped that their mom had made it there in the end - he was happy to hear it.   
And they’d had a chance to say a proper goodbye. Not explicitly, of course, because that would have been too much for either of them. But it was there in their voices, in between the lines of what they were saying, in the simple fact that both of them knew it was happening.

It had hurt like nothing else, to have that conversation, to know the score. _I’m here, you’re there - and this time, there’s absolutely nothing we can do about it._ But what had preyed on Sam’s mind afterwards was one exchange, almost the last thing they said.  
_You plannin’ on calling again?_  
I don’t know. I mean, I’d want to. But I don’t know when.  
Well, that has to be up to you. Think it over, and I’ll be here if you do, alright?

Sam had thought about that for days. Of _course_ he wanted to. There was a planet-sized hole in his heart and the idea of being able to talk to Dean, to not lose him completely, was the only thing that let him cope with it sometimes.   
Heaven had closed its traffic down considerably, too; so if Cas wanted to remain in the good books of his fellows - having just regained that trust after helping beat both Lucifer _and _the Darkness - it wasn’t like he could just come and go, see Dean when he pleased. (Sam also suspected that he wouldn’t even if he could, knowing Sam had no such option.)   
No, this was it. Their last possible link to Dean, and Sam wanted to grab it with both hands and never let go.

But it wasn’t natural. Once you lost someone, holding on like that was never supposed to be a good idea. Any attempt at 'moving on’ already seemed like a Herculean task, and one Sam knew he wouldn’t be able to face for a long time. And there was no way of telling whether having that link, that connection, would make the task easier or render it impossible. This was uncharted territory in every way.  
Then there was Dean to think about. A psychic link to Earth didn’t sound like a good long-term plan - they’d spent their lives knowing that the dead not moving on from their old lives caused all sorts of problems. Granted, Dean wasn’t exactly going to turn into a vengeful spirit, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t have some adverse effect on him. In fact, knowing their luck, it almost certainly would.   
Besides which, Heaven was supposed to be it. Once you died, if you were lucky, that was your lot - and if anyone had earned their 'eternal rest’, it was Dean. Now he had a lifetime of memories to peruse, an unfortunately large group of family and friends to be with up there. A mother to get to know.

In the end, though, it was Oliver Pryce that was the deciding factor. Not by being a surly son of a bitch, though, and refusing to make a standing arrangement - which had been another concern of Sam’s.  
No, Oliver put a stop to any future plans completely by accident. Six days after contacting Dean, he suffered a massive stroke and died before the ambulance even got there.

Sam and Cas heard the next day, the psychic’s childhood fame sufficient to attract more media attention than just a note in the local paper’s obituary column. They stumbled across the story, and then just sat there for a moment, dumbfounded.   
When Sam headed for the liquor, Cas was right behind him.

They’re drunk now, sitting close together on the smallest sofa because screw it, they’re the only ones left. Their family of three has been whittled down to two, and right now it feels like Dean was all the light and colour of their little unit. Like he took it with him when he died.   
But there’s still comfort in this contact, and they’re damn well going to take advantage of it.

'Y'know something, Cas?’ Sam asks. The alcohol’s numbed the pain considerably, but now he just feels unbelievably weary instead. Like he’s really, really old - ancient, even - and hasn’t slept in years.  
Cas, meanwhile, _is_ ancient, and definitely hasn’t slept in a while since his grace is slowly healing. Tonight, though, he’s drunk enough that Sam’s expecting him to pass out at any minute, if Sam doesn’t beat him to it. But for now, he gestures for Sam to continue.   
'This is, like, best-case scenario, Cas. Not - not Pryce, obv'ously, poor guy. Though I dunno, maybe it’s better for _us_ because we’re not tempted like that, y'know? But - anyway, Dean’s _okay_. He’s _happy_, for crying out loud.’   
Cas sighs. 'Yes. It is the… best-case scenario.’

Sam nods, then stops when it makes him dizzy. 'But y'know something, Cas? When he told us what happened, it was kinda hard. Because - because if he’d actually been in Hell, or Purgatory or whatever, it woulda been a mistake. And I coulda got him out - coulda got him _back_.’ His voice is strained now, but he doesn’t care. 'Even the Empty, y'know - it doesn’t sound good. So if he was there, maybe I couldn’t get him out, but I’d frickin’ try. I’d tear it apart if I had to.’  
'But not Heaven?’  
'No. No, I can’t - I mean, even if I _could_ bring him back now, I wouldn’t. B'cause it’s not fair, y'know. I never wanted that for - for me, so how could I do that to him? He d'serves to be there.’  
Cas is full-on leaning against him now, head on his shoulder. 'We will see him again, Sam.’  
'I know,’ Sam murmurs.

When they wake up the next morning - closer to noon really, and with devastating hangovers - they clean themselves up, and then just wander around; half-doing basic chores, but mainly just lost.   
Eventually, they find themselves in the library, sitting at a table and not quite sure what to do with themselves. 'What now?’ Cas asks.

Sam remembers him asking that a week ago. He remembers what Dean said that night, about the people he’s with now - all those people who died 'fighting the good fight’. He thinks about what Dean said nearly ten years ago: _Keep fighting… Remember what Dad taught you. And remember what _I_ taught you._   
And he finds himself thinking about a story he barely noticed at the time, one that started to show after the announcement of Pryce’s death. Five strange deaths, around a two-hour drive from Lebanon.

Sam thinks of all the monsters still out there, and all the people who need saving - more than ever, now there’s one less hunter in the world.

And he has an answer. 'I guess we’ve got work to do.’


	2. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Eileen comes back into Sam's life, they start to build a future together.

Sam is thirty-five when he runs into Eileen Leahy again.

Dean’s been gone for fourteen months, and Sam’s been settled in his new job for around ten. He did try to keep hunting, for a while. But if it’s a hard job for two people, it’s a mammoth task for one - and that’s not even the main reason he couldn’t do it.  
No, it was because nothing else made his grief so present. He was reminded of it with every grave that took twice as long to dig; every time he had to stop himself saying ‘And this is my partner-’; every distraught interviewee who’d lost a loved one. It was there in the single motel rooms (or worse, the empty bed in a room with two) and in the sense of dullness that pervaded every victory now. Yes, hunting was still important work - but the wins felt hollow sometimes, without Dean there to grumble about the monsters or break out a celebratory beer.

Cas came along a few times, but if anything, that was worse. His oddness put witnesses on edge, making them uncooperative - and when it came to fighting, he may have been strong, but there wasn’t the fine-tuned synchronicity Sam had come to expect and rely on when hunting with Dean.

After a particularly bad hunt - the werewolf was dead, but so was the victim he’d hoped to save - Sam realised he’d had enough.   
‘I can’t do this anymore, Cas,’ he said. It was late at night, and he was sitting on the edge of his bed, injured and exhausted. ‘I can’t do it without him.’

Cas didn’t say anything, just continued to guide his hands slowly over Sam’s wounds, healing them one by one.  
‘That kid’s dead because I wasn’t quick enough. If Dean had been there tonight, we could have saved him,’ Sam murmured.  
Cas did stop then, and sat beside him. ‘That isn’t your fault, Sam. You did everything you could.’  
‘I don’t know, Cas. I’m still off my game. I’m doubting myself. And what if that’s making me sloppy? What if it’s putting lives at risk?’  
'You don’t really believe that.’  
Sam shook his head. 'Most of the time, no. And I know it’s just… survivor’s guilt, or whatever. But either way, I don’t think I can keep going. I feel like I’m gonna burn out if I try.’  
'What are you going to do, then?’ Cas asked.  
'I have one idea.’

Sam’s focus shifts from that night to the present as he picks up the phone ringing in front of him. 'Special Agent Allen, FBI. …Yes, ma'am, he’s our agent looking into the Stevenson murders - why, is there a problem?’

After word got out that the Winchesters and Castiel had dispatched the Darkness, they’d managed to regain a lot of favour within the hunting community. Sam spent nearly two months using this newfound respect to establish connections with other hunters, then set up several phone lines to the Bunker - posing as FBI, Homeland Security, CDC and several other organisations commonly used by hunters as cover stories. He also set up a line for advice - with a huge supernatural library at his fingertips, he often gets calls now asking for a way to kill a selkie, or the herbs needed for a particular banishing spell. He thinks of Dean’s disgust when Garth became 'the new Bobby’, and he smiles at the memory.  
He doesn’t hunt anymore, but he can still help people.

What’s more, Sam takes all the new information - contact details for hunters, shops and dealers that sell tools of the trade, information from when things don’t go quite as planned out in the field - and he starts to collate it, record it. Adds his own experiences to the data. Starts a file on angels. He becomes a real Man of Letters, dealing more with theory and leaving the practice to others, and most of the time, he’s content.

He’s making a list of places to buy or harvest wolfsbane when he receives a text message. He’s surprised, because most people these days contact him on the landlines. It’s from Eileen - her number saved so long ago now, if rarely used. She’s close by, and she asks him if he has information on a rite to entrap and destroy multiple poltergeists at once.

He does, but it’s pages long - far too long to text. Of course, he could email her. But something makes him ignore that option and send her directions to the Bunker instead. After all, he has all the ingredients here, it’ll be more convenient for her to take those than chase them down herself.

If Dean were here, he’d laugh at Sam’s utter transparency.

She turns up an hour later, and he greets her outside. After he met her the first time, he found himself looking up ASL again, trying to relearn what he once knew and maybe even expand his signing vocabulary. It’s not exactly something he’s kept up in recent months, but he hopes he can do a little better than last time.

_Hello,_he signs as she approaches._It’s nice to see you again._  
She smiles._You too._Her signing is slightly slow and deliberate, matching his speed, accommodating him.  
_Come inside. I’ve got the recipe.  
Recipe?_She asks, raising an eyebrow.  
He looks sheepish. 'It was the best word I could think of,’ he explains, and when she laughs good-naturedly, he does too.

It takes maybe half an hour to go through the rite with her. She reads his lips, because he doesn’t know the signs for words like 'poltergeist’. Quite frankly, he wonders if there are any signs for some of the more exotic ingredients.

She leaves with a photocopy of the most important information, and twice the materials for the rite as she ought to need, just in case._Thank you,_she signs.  
_No problem._He hesitates, then adds_Be careful, OK?  
I always am._She goes to leave, then turns back._Say hello to your brother for me._  
Sam’s grateful that she turns away again before she can see his face fall, because that’s one conversation he doesn’t really want to have right now, and one Eileen can definitely do without before going on a hunt.

She drives away, and part of him wishes he were going with her. But unlike him, she’s used to hunting alone, and she’ll be fine.  
Still, it’s been a while since he’s felt this worried about someone.

Cas comes home some time after sunset. These days, he goes around doing various good deeds - looking out for people in their daily lives, keeping children safe as they cross busy roads, performing subtle miracles like healing. He explained to Sam that if an Angel of the Lord is going to walk the earth, then he ought to be caring for God’s creation as best he can. He calls it The Mission - the original purpose of angels.  
Tonight, when he walks in, he finds Sam with one ear to the telephones, but most of his attention on a YouTube video teaching ASL.

***

Eileen returns three days later. The poltergeists have been dealt with and, as predicted, she has more leftover herbs than would be convenient to carry with her, so she decides to take them back to Sam.

She catches herself smiling as she texts him to let him know she’s on her way, and the more honest part of her wonders exactly how much_convenience_comes into it.

He greets her at the door again, helps her carry the jars and bags inside (there really_was_an awful lot of stuff)._Watch your step,_he says as he leads her down the stairs, through to a storage room. They stack the shelves again, and when they’re done, she accepts the offer of something to drink.

Ten minutes later, they’re sat at the kitchen table, and Eileen adds Sam to her mental list of people who make really good coffee. 'So,’ she says between sips, 'do you still hunt? Or is it mainly running the phone lines these days?’  
_Mainly the phones,_he says._I don’t really go out in the field much anymore. Cas does, though - he’s a family friend. He’s got his own business to attend to._  
'And Dean?’ she asks.  
Sam looks down, then catches himself and tilts his head back up towards her. He keeps his eyes averted, though. _Dean… He, uh, passed away. A little over a year ago._

She’s taken aback by the news - what with the Winchesters’ high profile in the hunting community, she’s surprised she hadn’t heard. She feels a rush of sympathy, remembering how close the brothers seemed when she met them on that banshee hunt. 'I’m so sorry,’ she says, and Sam nods. 'What happened?’  
_Harpy,_he says.  
'Did you get it?’ He nods again, and she’s glad of that, at least. She knows from experience that revenge doesn’t bring someone back to you, but it still carries a certain satisfaction, knowing that the thing which hurt you so badly won’t hurt anyone else.

They don’t say anything more for a while, until Sam changes the topic to his work on the Men of Letters files.

The time goes quickly. There’s a sort of easy camaraderie she remembers from when they first met - after she’d let him out of her trap, that is. Sam mentions that he’s been trying to improve his sign language, so she tests him on it (of course). She tells him that he’s got a way to go, but he’s certainly improved. He smiles at the praise. They talk about hunting and travelling and all manner of things, interspersing signs with their conversation.  
It’s nice - theirs is, by nature, a fairly solitary lifestyle, and it feels good to talk with someone who gets it, someone she has a lot in common with. They don’t even realise how late it’s gotten until Castiel comes home, and Sam introduces them. Something about the way he talks makes his lips quite hard to read, but he seems pleasant enough, and from what she sees he and Sam clearly care a lot about each other.

Soon after meeting him, Eileen stands up and says, 'I ought to get going.’  
_Right,_Sam says, then signs,_Where are you going next?_  
She shrugs._I don’t know,_she signs. 'Any motels nearby?’  
_There’s a few,_he says, but he has an uncertain look about him, like he’s trying to pluck up the courage to ask something.  
_What is it?  
I was just thinking,_he says slowly, _this place was built for something like thirty people. There are plenty of spare rooms, if you wanted to stay the night._

She considers it for a moment. It’s a kind offer, and it’ll almost certainly be more comfortable staying here than getting a room elsewhere. 'Thank you,’ she says. 'I think I’ll take you up on that.’

***

Adam Milligan was eighteen when he died.  
…He thinks. Really, he’s not sure whether he’s supposed to count the time between his first death and his resurrection, but it’s not like he was ageing during that time, so he’s going with no.

He’s seen a few of his favourite moments more than once by now (and he doesn’t know how it works, but somehow they never get old), so he’s definitely surprised to see a new face. 'Huh. No offence, but I didn’t really think I had any happy memories with you.’

'Well, I’m not a memory,’ says Dean. 'I’m real.’ He’s got a strange look on his face, somewhere between relief and guilt. 'It’s really good to see you, Adam. How the hell did you even get here?’  
Adam frowns. ’…Uh, by dying? There any other ways you know of to end up in Heaven?’  
Dean rolls his eyes, then looks thoughtful for a moment. 'Well, actually-’ He shakes his head. 'Not important. What I mean is, how’d you get out of the Cage?’  
'Cage? You mean, like, Lucifer’s Cage? I wasn’t- why would I be there?’ Realisation began to dawn. 'That’s where Michael is?’  
'You seriously don’t remember?’

They’re in what looks like Adam’s high school cafeteria, so he gestures towards a table and they sit opposite each other. Dean looks older than he did the last time Adam saw him, which he’s taking as a sign that the Earth remained intact after he left it. That’s something, at least. 'I’m guessing Michael didn’t fill you in on what happened, then. Can’t say I’m surprised.’ He sighs. 'After the door slammed, Michael showed up, and I guess he knew you were a lost cause after you killed Zachariah. So he gave me a choice - I could surrender right then and let him use my body as a vessel, and my soul would be sent to Heaven; or he’d torture me until I gave in anyway, and I’d be stuck watching him and Lucifer kill the planet with their war.’

Dean nods. 'Well, you made the right choice, kid. Trust me, you would not wanna be where Michael is right now.’ He continues more quietly. 'Listen, Adam - after what happened to you, I get it if you don’t want me around. And if that’s the case, I’ll walk out of here and never come back.’ He meets Adam’s eyes briefly, as if to prove the earnestness of that promise. 'But we’re family - we’re blood. And if you’re open to it, I’d like to get to know you.’  
Adam considers it for a moment. Thinks of how good it is to talk to someone real for once, even if he’s practically a stranger. And he remembers how - before Michael drowned out all other sound - he heard Dean yelling through the door, trying to break back in, telling him to hang on. Running back towards an archangel that had it in for him, for Adam’s sake.  
He smiles. 'Well, you could start by showing me how you get around up here.’

***

Sam hasn’t felt this nervous in a long time.

It’s been three months since Eileen first stayed the night. Since then, he’s seen a lot of her - she’s continued to hunt in the area, and even when she isn’t there on business they’ve met up a few times simply because they enjoy each other’s company. When that happens, she often ends up staying the night, because the time flies by and they don’t realise how late it’s gotten until long after dark.

The idea first came to him a week ago, after one such occasion. Eileen came into the kitchen the next day, her hair still wet from the shower. Sam turned away from fixing breakfast and signed,_Good morning. Did you sleep well?  
Yes, thank you,_she replied. 'It’s comfortable here. You guys are lucky to have a home base.’

Sam had thought about that all day. He remembers how it felt when he and Dean first found the Bunker, years ago. He hadn’t had a permanent home since Stanford, and finally getting another chance at one - especially one that came with demon-proofing and a freaking_library_\- was a dream come true._Lucky_isn’t a word he applies to himself very often, but Eileen was right.  
And he started wondering if it was time he shared some of that luck. Eileen’s parents were a Man and Woman of Letters, right? So technically, this place belonged to her as much as it ever did to the Winchesters.

He doesn’t know why nerves are getting to him now. This shouldn’t be weird. She’s a legacy. She’s got the right to live in the Bunker, and she’s stayed the night many times by now anyway, so this shouldn’t be too different. And two friends can live together perfectly innocently - it’s not like they’ll be sharing a room.

Sam knows all this, but it’s still a while before he gathers the courage to ask her. They’ve almost finished dinner (or she has, at least - he hasn’t eaten very much) and Cas will be home soon. Sam checked that he’d be okay with Eileen moving in, and the angel was all for it, but he’d rather ask her before Cas gets in. He thinks it’s because he doesn’t want to outnumber her when he brings it up; that could make it more awkward for her if she decides to say no.

He clears his throat - kicks himself when it doesn’t work, of course - and pushes his plate away instead, sitting up straight. She catches the movement and turns her attention to him.  
'There’s something I want to ask you,’ he says.  
_What is it?_  
'I had an idea about a week ago. You mentioned how lucky Cas and I were to have this place - and you’re right. And I thought - being as you’re based in the area a lot at the moment, and you’re a legacy, and we have tons of room - I wondered if maybe… you would like to come stay with us more permanently.’  
'More permanently?’  
'Uh, yeah. I wondered if you might like to move in.’

There’s a horrible moment where Eileen looks surprised but doesn’t say anything, and Sam thinks he’s made a mistake asking, it’s too weird, too forward -  
'Wow,’ she says softly. 'Are you sure? You’d do that?’  
Sam nods. 'You’ve got as much right to this place as I have.’  
Her face lights up with a wide smile, and she signs, _Count me in. I’d love to._

***

Eileen’s been living with them for around two months when Castiel begins to notice some odd changes in behaviour.

At first, he wonders if she and Sam have had a fight, because they’re avoiding eye contact with each other, awkwardly stepping around each other where before they’d simply walk past. But when he asks Sam about it, he looks surprised - a little alarmed, even. 'No, Cas, we haven’t - why, has she said something to you?’

Then one day, the situation changes yet again. When he leaves in the morning, they still seem to be flustered at coming into contact with each other; but when he returns that night, they’re sitting at opposite ends of the sofa, turned towards each other and conversing with sign language. Each has their attention entirely focused on the other - to the point where it’s at least a minute before Sam notices that Castiel is standing there - and there’s no sign of tension between them. Castiel supposes that whatever the matter was, they must have resolved it, and he’s glad.

He only realises his mistake the next time Eileen comes home from a hunt. When the door opens, Sam’s entire countenance shifts. He almost visibly brightens, walks over to meet her at the bottom of the stairs - and kisses her.  
Castiel thinks of the body language and behaviour described in the fiction that Metatron pushed into his mind, and understands his error._Not discord,_he thinks._Attraction._

Sam turns to Castiel suddenly, a slight flush on his face. 'Cas, I, uh - I forgot to mention this before, I guess. Sorry.’  
Castiel frowns. 'I don’t see why you’d apologise. The two of you beginning a romantic relationship has no negative impact on me. If anything, I’m happy for the pair of you.’  
Eileen smiles. 'Thanks, Cas.’

He’s proved right over the course of the next couple of years. The change in Sam and Eileen’s dynamic has very little effect on him - though he does mention, once, the idea of leaving. Sam looks stunned. 'You want to move out? Where the hell did that come from?’  
'Angels hardly need a residence, Sam. We don’t sleep, for one thing. And I am aware that couples often prefer to live alone -’  
'Whoa, just - just back up a little. Cas, just because Eileen and I are together now doesn’t mean you have to leave. We’re family - I like you being around, and I’m pretty sure Eileen does too.’  
'That is kind of you to say, but -’  
'No buts, Cas. This is your home, too, for as long as_you_want it to be. There’s more than enough room for all three of us.’

When Castiel asks Eileen, she says much the same thing. So he decides to stay, and keeps up his routine - leaving in the morning to continue The Mission, then coming home in the evening because that’s when the phone lines become less busy, so he can spend a few hours with Sam and Eileen (provided that the latter is not elsewhere on a hunt). He then uses the time he’s awake alone for thinking, praying, and watching television.  
He does still try to afford the two of them some privacy at times - staying away for a couple of nights, spending them elsewhere on the planet. But he’s always warmly welcomed back.

There is one other change to his routine, and that’s when he serves as a sounding board for one or both of them during an argument. But those are few and far between, and never serious enough to last more than a day.

Those two years pass quickly - and somewhere along the line, Castiel realises he is once again part of a family of three.

***

Sam is thirty-eight when he and Eileen get married.

He’s standing just outside the nave of the church with Cas, pacing slightly as he waits for the moment to arrive. They don’t exactly have many friends, so it’s going to be a small ceremony; Sam’s invited Linda Tran, her (hunter) husband of two years, Garth and his wife, and their twin daughters. It took a little convincing for Eileen to agree to invite four lycanthropes to their wedding, but one afternoon spent having lunch was sufficient for Garth to win her over, if leaving her slightly bemused. Sam’s also warned Linda in advance that not all the guests will be human, and she promised that she’d pass the message on to her husband Pete -_don’t shoot/stab the tall skinny werewolf or his family._

Eileen’s invited one friend (plus her girlfriend) who’s helped her out on a few hunts - Penny, if Sam remembers correctly - and also Mildred, the lady from the retirement home where the two of them first met. Turns out Eileen kept in touch with her these past few years. (Sam still doesn’t know why she started giggling and signing about 'mountain climbing’ when they went to invite her. He thinks maybe he got his signs mixed up.)

He proposed three months ago. A fairly short engagement, but if hunting teaches you one thing, it’s the importance of seizing the day, because you never know how many you’ve got left.  
He’d set the table with candles and cooked a slightly fancier dinner that night - after a week of practice while Eileen was away on a hunt, he had managed to perfect the lasagna, and the kitchen had almost stopped smelling of smoke - and when they’d finished, he got down on one knee and signed the question before producing the ring from his pocket.

Cas clears his throat. 'Sam - there’s approximately half an hour until the wedding, correct?’  
Sam checks his watch. 'Just under. Why?’  
'I considered giving you this afterwards, but as we have a little time, it may be best for you to have it now.’ Seemingly from nowhere, Cas suddenly has a folded piece of paper in his hand, and he holds it out to Sam. 'Consider this a wedding gift.’  
Sam takes it and begins to unfold it, smiling. 'Cas, you didn’t have to -’  
He stops, and his breath hitches because in front of him is handwriting he’d know anywhere. 'How… Where did you get this?’  
'I called in a favour with Linoriel. She was friends with Hannah, and when I told her why I needed to return - but only for a short while - she was sympathetic.’

Sam nods absently, stumbling over to a seat, and begins to read the note.

_ Hey, Sammy. _

_ Cas tells me congratulations are in order. I’m happy for you, kiddo - Eileen’s awesome, I bet you two are great together. (Cas certainly seems to think so.) I’m sorry I can’t be there today, but you should know that everyone’s gonna be at the Roadhouse, raising a glass to the happy couple. _

_ He also told me about Pryce having a stroke - I already knew, though. I spotted his name when Ash was trawling for famous people to go visit. (Just FYI, John Panozzo is even more awesome in person.) That’s also how we found someone else, in fact - Adam. Yep, that Adam. Turns out Michael kicked him out before he ever got to Stull. Thought you’d want to know. _

_ There’s a lot more I could say, but most of it you already know, and the rest can wait till you get up here. (Which better not be too soon, or I’ll kick your ass.) I know you and Eileen will have a great life together. You two - and Cas - take care of each other, alright? _

_ \- Dean _

His brother’s signature comes two-thirds of the way down the page, and scattered below that are smaller paragraphs - from his parents, the Harvelles, Kevin, Charlie and a whole lot of others - wishing him and Eileen well, sending them love and congratulations.

Sam swallows hard and wipes at his eyes. 'How was he?’  
'He seemed happy. At peace - more so than I ever saw him on Earth.’  
He nods, then walks over to Cas and embraces him tightly. 'Thanks, Cas.’

When Sam enters the nave of the church a few minutes later, waiting for his bride, the note is carefully folded up in his pocket.

***

Seven months after the wedding, Eileen’s on a hunt in Texas.

She’s tracking a chupacabra that’s been stalking the streets of Gonzales and the surrounding area. The authorities were called in after it was seen near the local elementary school - though ironically, Eileen knows that it won’t harm a child. Animal control have had no luck, of course, because it’s far cleverer than their usual quarry.

There’s a small scratch mark on the corner up ahead, barely visible in the remaining dusk light, so she turns left down that alleyway, continually checking her surroundings and staying perfectly still when she sees a slight movement ahead.  
Whether it was the wind or some sort of small animal, she’ll never know. The chupacabra hits her from the right, knocking her to the ground.

She’s got her iron blade out already, but it has her arm pinned. She can feel its breath hot on her face, the vibrations running through her when it growls.  
It moves its snout down towards her throat and she feels like her heart will burst with the adrenaline, but it doesn’t matter, this is it anyway-

It sniffs her for a moment, growls once more, and sprints away.

It takes a minute before she gets to her feet, still shaking and leaning against the wall. Much as she’s relieved to be alive, she’s also baffled - by all rights, she ought to be dead now, throat and lungs ripped out like the victims in the morgue. Chupacabras will only leave their prey alive if you kill them first, so why did it spare her? She’s fairly small, true, but not small enough to pass for a child-

The thought hits her as suddenly as the monster did, and she nearly falls to the ground again. But instead, she straightens up determinedly, and starts the walk back to the motel. She’ll pick up the trail again tomorrow - it’s too dark for it to hunt now, it’ll wait until just before the next sunset. If she hasn’t killed it by then.

On her way back to the room, she buys a pregnancy test.

***

Sam is two months off thirty-nine when he finds out he’s going to be a father.

When Eileen tells him, he’s stunned into silence for a moment. Then he’s grinning the widest he ever has, and the two of them are half-laughing, half-crying with sheer joy.

It’s only now that he’s coming down from that high, that the doubts are settling in.

Cas wanders into the lounge and sees Sam in the large armchair, hunched over and sipping at a glass of whiskey. 'Sam? Is everything okay?’  
'Couldn’t sleep.’ He tried for an hour after Eileen drifted off, before giving it up as a hopeless case and coming down here.  
'That isn’t exactly an answer,’ Cas points out, coming to sit beside him.  
Sam laughs quietly. 'No, I guess not.’

There’s a few beats of silence, then Cas asks, 'Are you having second thoughts about parenthood?’  
Sam shakes his head vehemently. 'No, no way.’ He sighs. 'Or… Not exactly.’ When Cas waits for him to elaborate, he says, 'It’s not that I’m not happy. I am - I’m so happy. I’ve always wanted to have kids one day. But I’m just… worried.’  
'It’s normal to be nervous-’  
'Yeah, I know that, but this is more. More than just first-time parent jitters.’ He looks up at Cas. 'I’m worried about the lives we lead, Cas. It’s no life for a child, and it’s not like you can leave it behind, either - look how well that worked out for Mom. How can we bring a baby into this?’  
Cas reaches out and puts a hand on his arm. 'You’ll figure it out. Crowley is dealt with, as I’ve told you before, and things are quieter these days. You’re not the target of so much vengeance anymore - and whatever remains, there is no-one better equipped to protect this baby from it than the two of you.’ He frowns. 'You don’t seem reassured. Is there something else?’

Sam’s silent for a moment, but then he says quietly, 'I’m a lot closer to forty than thirty, Cas. That’s pretty old to be having your first child. I don’t even know why that worries me, but it does.’  
Cas’ gaze softens slightly. 'Sam, there have been far older parents than you. You’re still young enough to raise a child, and I believe you have more than enough time left to see them grow up. Furthermore, I believe you and Eileen will make excellent parents.’  
'You really think so?’  
'I do. Age is a factor in parenting, but it doesn’t determine how good you are at it. Who you are is far more important.’  
He smiles. A moment later, he says, 'I ought to go back to bed. Thanks, Cas.’  
'Goodnight, Sam.’

***

Eileen is thirty-seven when she quits hunting.

Once she finds out she’s pregnant, she continues for a month or so - she’s hunted her whole life, but it preys on her mind now in a way it never has before. She’s still physically capable, but also acutely aware of the danger she’s putting her unborn child in, even during hunts where she wouldn’t fear for her own life.  
Then one day, a werewolf swipes at her abdomen, missing her by less than an inch. She stabs it more times than strictly necessary, then heads home, and as soon as she sees Sam she bursts into tears.

After that, she takes up work in the Men of Letters library, condensing and organising the archives.

Four months into her pregnancy, she decides it’s high time to bring up the subject of moving._You know I love it here,_she signs._But I don’t think it’s the right sort of home for a child._  
Sam agrees with her, and so they begin looking for places in the area. It takes another three months, but Sam forges enough paperwork - and she probably should be worried about that, but she knows by now she can trust her husband’s handiwork - that they can move into a small but pleasant house nearby. They start treating the Bunker more like an office, heading there for work in the morning and coming home at night.

They planned on calling her Mary, but when their daughter is born on Christmas Day, they go with Jennifer instead and make Mary her middle name. She’s given her mother’s surname, which Eileen herself has kept; because, as Sam confesses, he’s concerned about any anti-Winchester sentiment still lurking around among either hunters or monsters. Eileen doesn’t think he has anything to worry about anymore - the name 'Winchester’ hasn’t been involved in any end-of-the-world action for at least five years, she jokes - but she sees how scared Sam is and agrees to the decision.

Cas mans the phones while Sam and Eileen settle into parenthood, but after two months, Sam takes himself off his 'paternity leave’ and starts heading to work during the day. Shortly after that, Eileen takes a job packing online shopping orders, because to raise a child you need at least one actual income - and now that they’re staying in one place and more of their lives are on the grid, she doesn’t want either of them charged with credit card fraud. The early morning hours means that she gets paid slightly more, and can get back and spend the day with Jenny.  
It takes a while to work out a schedule - and when they do, it’s not a typical or easy one - but between the three of them, they figure it out so the baby always has enough to eat and is never left alone.

The one exception to their new system comes on Jenny’s first half-birthday. Sam rises at dawn but doesn’t go to the Bunker all day, and Cas quite literally doesn’t let the baby out of his sight for those twenty-four hours, midnight to midnight. Eileen knows exactly why.  
When she gets up at three the next morning, Sam’s still standing vigil in Jenny’s room. She only convinces him to leave when she gets back at around eleven. 'It’s the next day now,’ she says gently. 'She’s safe, Sam.’ He looks dazed, and she thinks that’s only partly sleep deprivation. He doesn’t move until she leads him away, tugging him by the arm until he follows her to the bedroom.  
She sits on the edge of the mattress, stroking his hair until his eyes finally close and he falls asleep.

They decided a while back not to tell Jenny about monsters - at least, not until she’s older and can keep the secret from any friends she makes. They protect her however they can in the meantime; signing her up for martial arts classes as soon as she’s old enough, and giving her an anti-possession charm and breathing a sigh of relief when it becomes her favourite thing to wear, as she vows that she’s_never gonna take it off, promise!_

Eileen knows that one day they’ll have to tell her, so that they can at least teach her enough to keep herself safe. But for now, her daughter has a normal life - and she’s determined that if Jenny does want to hunt or be a Woman of Letters one day, it’ll be her own choice.

***

Jenny’s seven when she sees her first ghost.

She wakes up when the nightlight starts to flicker, and freezes with fear when she sees a man at the foot of her bed, with a horrible smile on his face. 'Thank you for bringing me home,’ he whispers. He points at her bedside table, beside the clock that reads 4:17, to the coin she found on the playground at school yesterday. It was shiny and pretty and not something she knew, like a nickel or a penny, so she kept it, but now she wishes she hadn’t.

When the man takes a step towards her, she screams, 'Daddy!’

Suddenly Uncle Cas just_appears_out of nowhere, like magic, and after taking one look at the man he scoops her up in his arms, backing into a corner. Daddy bursts in a second later, and when the shotgun goes off it hurts her ears and she starts to cry. 'Cas, get her out of here!’ he shouts, and suddenly they’re not in her room anymore, they’re on the back lawn, Uncle Cas rocking and shushing her while the noise continues from upstairs.

Soon the noise stops, and a few seconds later Daddy comes out the back door and runs over to them. She reaches out for him, and he takes her and hugs her tightly. 'Are you okay? Did it hurt you? Cas, is she okay?’  
She nods against his shoulder, and hears Uncle Cas say, 'She’s alright, Sam. She’s just frightened.’

They go inside, and Daddy sits down on the sofa, her arms still latched around his neck. She’s scared and confused, but she’s also really, really tired, and she knows she’s safe now with her dad, so she quickly falls asleep.

She wakes up again when the front door opens. Daddy quickly gets to his feet, pushing her behind him and holding a knife. When Mommy walks in, he lets out a deep breath and puts it down. 'What’s wrong?’ Mommy asks, frowning.  
Daddy signs something she doesn’t quite see, and then Mommy comes over and kneels in front of Jenny, placing one hand either side of her face. 'Are you alright?’ When Jenny nods, Mommy turns back to Daddy and says, 'Did you get it?’  
'Yeah,’ he says, and he sounds really tired. 'It was attached to this old coin I found on her bedside table.’

Jenny feels like she’s going to cry again. 'I’m sorry,’ she says.  
Her parents look at her. 'Why are you sorry?’ asks Daddy.  
'I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know the coin would do that. I’m sorry.’  
Mommy shakes her head. 'It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s not your fault.’  
She sniffs. 'Was it a ghost?’  
Mommy and Daddy don’t answer, just look at each other for a moment. Then Daddy says, 'Come on, sit down.’

They all sit on the sofa, Jenny in the middle, and she listens as Daddy keeps talking. 'It was a ghost, you’re right. Ghosts are real - a lot of things are real that most other people don’t believe in.’  
'Like monsters?’  
He nods. 'Yeah, like monsters, too.’ He looks sad, Jenny thinks. 'But the thing is, like I said, a lot of people don’t know about them. So this is all secret, okay?’  
She nods seriously. 'Okay.’  
'Good. There’s something else you need to know - these things may be real, but you don’t have to be afraid. Because we can make them go away.’  
'Like you made the ghost go away?’ she says, and he nods. 'How?’  
'It depends on what type of thing it is. But Mommy and Uncle Cas and I - we know how to get rid of a lot of them.’

The mention of her uncle makes her remember how he appeared last night, and how quickly they got to the yard from her room. 'Is Uncle Cas magic?’  
Daddy chuckles quietly. 'Yeah, a little bit. That’s how he got you out so quickly.’ He turns serious again. 'And that’s a big reason why you don’t need to be scared. When you get a bit older, we can teach you how to look after yourself - but in the meantime, the three of us can keep you safe, I promise. No matter where you are.’  
'And other people, too?’ she asks, thinking of her best friend and her classmates and the nice neighbours next door with the big fluffy dog.  
'And other people, yeah. In fact, keeping lots of people safe is what I do for my job.’  
'I thought you worked for the guvinment.’  
He laughs again. 'Well, sort of. And if people ask you, that’s still what you say, okay? It means we can keep the monsters a secret.’

Mommy speaks then. 'Do you have anything you want to ask us, sweetheart?’  
Jenny thinks for a moment, but shakes her head because it seems simple. Monsters are real, but there are grown ups who can get rid of them. She isn’t scared anymore. She knows the world is still safe.  
'Alright then,’ says Daddy. 'Well, school already knows you won’t be in today, and you know what really helps after you meet a ghost?’  
'What?’  
'Ice cream.’

***

A week later, Sam’s at the Bunker, sitting in front of a row of quiet phones and staring at a page of writing that he keeps losing his place on. He curses quietly and shoves the paper to one side with the rest of the file, holding his head in his hands for a moment before getting up and walking out.

Dean’s bedroom is still as it was the day he died, virtually untouched since then. Same framed pictures around the room, same guns on the wall. Bed still made the way Dad taught them.  
_Dad_. Sam remembers the way he felt that Christmas when he found out monsters were real. How betrayed he felt that Dad lied to him, how scared he was that something bad was going to happen to him, or Dean, or even Dad himself.  
And he remembers how that anger faded when he grew up. He started to understand, thought he got it, why Dad (and Dean) had tried to keep him in the dark for as long as possible.

He laughs bitterly. He didn’t understand the half of it; not until last week, when he had to give his own daughter the 'monsters are real’ talk. And he was lucky enough to have his wife sitting right beside him when he did, and could quite honestly tell Jenny that at least one angel was watching over her.  
His dad was a single parent with little to no faith left, and Sam can understand now why his own revelation had to come from a journal instead. He wonders when John would have told him, if his hand hadn’t been forced - when he could have brought himself to do it.

He loses track of time as the phones remain silent, until he hears the front door open and Eileen’s familiar gait.  
She comes to the door and knocks quietly. 'Hey. Can I come in?’ He nods, and she sits beside him on the edge of the bed. 'I thought I’d find you in here.’  
_Helps me think,_he signs, mainly so he doesn’t have to look up at her just yet. He glances at the clock. 4:24._Where’s our girl?_  
'At Megan’s for dinner. You’re picking her up at six.’ She reaches over, gently guiding his chin up until he’s looking at her. 'You okay?’  
He sighs. 'Not really. I didn’t want her to find out just yet, you know? Wanted her to have a normal life for a little longer.’  
Eileen smiles sadly. 'Me too.’

They stop talking then because there’s nothing more to be said, and they just sit there, leaning into each other slightly. It’s a long time before they move again.


	3. Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenny grows up a hunter, but she grows up happy.  
Sam's time on Earth grows short.

Jenny is fourteen when she goes on her first hunt. 

She’s been doing martial art classes since she was tiny, and learning more hunting-specific skills since she was ten - Mom taught her those, mainly, starting with how to wield a knife, then a crossbow, then finally guns when she turned twelve. (Dad wanted to wait until she was older for that last one, but he was outvoted.) 

She’s fourteen and it’s summer vacation when her parents find a hunt in Minnesota. They don’t go hunting a lot - just often enough to keep their skills sharp, and mainly when Dad can’t find someone else to put on a case.  
When they tell her about this one, she says, ‘Ok. When will you be back?’  
‘Actually, we were thinking you could come with us on this one.‘ 

She just blinks for a moment, not sure she heard her dad right. ‘Go with you?’  
He nods. 'Your mom and I have discussed it. It’s far enough away that you won’t run into anyone from school, and we think you’re ready.’  
Mom raises an eyebrow. 'I thought you were ready last year. Knowing the theory and practicing at home is fine, but you have to start applying your skills for real sometime if they’re going to be of any use to you.’  
The butterflies are already coming to life in her stomach, but Jenny starts grinning because this sounds_awesome_. 'When are we leaving?' 

She soon finds out that digging graves is hard work, but the salt-and-burn goes without a hitch. 

After that, hunting becomes a semi-regular pastime for the family. During weekends and holidays, she goes with one or both of her parents to help with a case - werewolves, spirits, shifters, even a vampire nest one time (under the strict condition that she was only on guard duty, killing any vamps that tried to run away).  
They never go after crossroads demons - even though Jenny’s learned the exorcisms. When she asks why, Dad only says that he has a promise to keep. 

They only leave a hunt partway through on one occasion. Jenny’s sixteen and they’re in North Dakota, and after three children turned up dead in the woods, they’re all pretty sure they’re hunting a strix - an owl-like creature that favours killing the very young.  
'Why were they even out there?’ Jenny wonders out loud.  
'There’s a path that runs through that area, a lot of kids use it as a shortcut home from school - at least, they used to, until this happened,’ Dad tells her. 

The door to the motel room opens, and Mom - who’s been out looking over the crime scene all morning - walks in, a troubled look on her face.  
'Everything okay?’ Dad asks, frowning.  
Mom shakes her head._Not really,_she signs._I think we were wrong about the creature.  
Why?_asks Jenny.  
_Too much blood in the woods._'Strices drink the blood of their victims,’ she explains, before turning to Dad, her expression softer now. 'Sam, I think the age of the victims is just a coincidence. I think this is a harpy.’  
Dad stiffens. 'Alright. Jenny, help your mother pack. I’ll go call Tyler, get him on this one instead.’  
Jenny’s confused. 'Dad, I know how to kill a harpy. Silver bullet, right? Can’t we-’  
’_Now_, Jennifer,’ he says, in a sharp tone that brooks no argument. He takes his cell phone and heads outside, shutting the door a lot harder than usual. 

Jenny looks at her mother, more confused than ever._What’s wrong with Dad?_  
Mom sighs, heading over to begin packing. 'It’s the harpy.’  
She reaches over to grasp her mom’s arm, reclaiming her attention. 'I figured that, but why? We know how to kill harpies. Why won’t he let us handle this?’  
Mom just looks at her for a moment, then seems to relent. 'Your Uncle Dean was killed by a harpy. Your dad’s just trying to keep us safe.' 

Jenny processes that as she’s absent-mindedly folding up her clothes. She knows his face from a few old pictures, but most of what she knows about Uncle Dean comes from Uncle Cas - Dad doesn’t mention him all that often. But she knows that the three of them were really close, and that losing Dean was incredibly rough on the other two.  
When Dad comes back in, he’s calmer, and shortly after that they’re on the road, heading home. 

Later on, Jenny will think of the grief on her dad’s face, and remember this as the day hunting stopped feeling like an adventure. 

*** 

Maggie Locklear is eighteen when she - quite literally - bumps into the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen. 

The hall is buzzing with noise, people cursing as they drag their suitcases up the last few steps, emotional parents and their embarrassed kids. There are banners all along the walls, proclaiming 'GEORGIA TECH - WELCOME FRESHMEN’. 

Maggie swerves to avoid someone with bright green hair who comes running out of their room, and instead bangs straight into someone else. 'Whoa, sorry,’ she says, then freezes - because_holy smokes_, those eyes are like a million different colours all at once.  
The girl (who’s so tall, it’s a wonder Maggie didn’t see her a mile off) frowns with concern. 'You alright?’  
'Uh - yeah. Yes. Thank you,’ Maggie stutters.  
The other girl smiles. 'Let me help you with that.’ She bends down to collect up the box of stuff Maggie didn’t even realise she’d dropped.  
Then she realises what box it was, and_oh, shit_. 'No! No, it’s fine, I - uh-’  
But it’s too late, the girl already has the salt canister and sage in her hands, and oh_shit_, she’s spotted the hex bags too. Maggie’s heart sinks - not even moved in a day, and she’s already gonna be known as the weirdo with the witchcraft crap. Fan-tucking-fastic. And this girl’s really hot, too, she laments. 

It’s a moment before she realises that the girl hasn’t backed off, looking freaked, or even asked her what all the stuff is for. Instead, she’s looking at it with something like wonder, and a second later she’s smiling up at Maggie. 'Do you like my necklace?’  
…Ok, not what Maggie was expecting, and a very weird question to ask someone you just met. But she glances down - and sees the silver anti-possession charm looped around the girl’s neck.  
She smiles back. 'What a coincidence,’ she says, the barest hint of sarcasm in her voice. 'I’ve got one just like it.’  
The girl laughs, straightening up and extending her hand. 'I’m Jennifer - Jenny’s fine.’  
'Maggie. But Margaret’s definitely not fine,’ she says, and when Jenny laughs again, she feels stupidly pleased with herself. 

A week later, the two of them are firm friends, and Maggie can’t believe her luck, that she literally stumbled into probably the only other hunter kid at Georgia Tech. It’s instant common ground, and they’re both excited by the chance to talk about their experiences with someone who_gets_it. 

They’re in Jenny’s room right now, and on the bedside table, there’s a framed picture from when she was younger. She’s standing in front of the Grand Canyon with two men - one in a trenchcoat, despite how sunny it is in the picture, and one with super long hair - as well as a woman, who has the same dark hair as Jenny, similarly tied back in a ponytail.  
Her roommate’s in class at the moment, and Maggie’s just finishing a story about a cockatrice. 'I’m telling you, its breath isn’t actually deadly, but it’s damn near. I couldn’t wash the smell out of my hair for a week after we left Ohio.' 

Jenny chuckles, but looks thoughtful. 'Ohio? Near Blue Creek, about two months ago?’  
'Yeah - how did you know?’  
'I think my dad sent you some info on that one. Your mom’s Tanya, right?’  
'Right.’ The pieces click into place. 'Wait a minute - your dad’s_Sam Winchester_?’  
'Guilty as charged,’ she says, smiling.  
'Wow. Dude, your dad’s like - the go-to guy, seriously.’  
'I know.’ There’s no mistaking the pride in her tone. 

They may not share a single class, but over the course of the next few months, they spend a lot of time together, hanging out either on their own or with the larger group they pick up along the way. All of them end up at a nearby frat house for a New Year’s Eve party, and it’s not long before they’re counting down, waiting for the ball to drop. 

Maggie’s nineteen when she first kisses the most beautiful girl she’s ever known. 

Jenny seems more than a little surprised, and Maggie feels herself turn red. 'I - uh - sorry, I thought…’ Shit, she’s read this all wrong. Jenny’s probably straight, she’s not interested in-  
That thought doesn’t even get finished, because Jenny’s face lights up with a smile, and she leans in for a longer kiss. 

*** 

It’s March, and Jenny’s home for a few days. 

She’s been giving her parents - and Cas - weird looks all day, almost like she’s scared. But it’s not until after dinner that she brings up what’s on her mind. Cas and Eileen are at the kitchen table playing a game of_Sorry!_, and Jenny comes into the living room, where Sam’s sitting on the sofa, making notes on the healing properties of mint in certain potions. 'Dad? Can I talk to you?’  
'Sure thing, kiddo. What about?’ He puts his work to one side, trying to seem casual, and pats the seat next to him. Jenny comes over and perches, like she’s not relaxed enough to sink back into the seat.  
She takes a deep breath, and only makes eye contact by stealing occasional glances. 'Promise you won’t get… weird about this.’  
'I promise.’  
'Ok.’ Pause. 'Ok. I’ve been… seeing someone recently.' 

Sam schools his face so he doesn’t break out into a grin. 'Ok. That’s nice.’  
She nods, and smiles like she can’t quite help herself. 'It really is.’ She shifts in her seat, and continues with, 'You know Tanya Locklear? It’s her kid.’  
Sam’s pleasantly surprised. 'A hunter? Wow. What are the chances, huh?’ Jenny’s still not looking at him, and a moment later it clicks. Tanya Locklear doesn’t have a son._Oh_. 

He sits forward in his seat, angling himself towards his daughter, and talks more softly. 'You know, when I first started college, I wanted nothing to do with hunting anymore. I was really mad at my dad, and I just wanted out completely… At first. After about a month, I realised that it had gotten really stifling, keeping that side of me - pretty much my whole life up until that point - secret. All I wanted was someone to talk to about it, and family didn’t seem like an option at that point. So when I met a guy wearing a pentagram bracelet, I really got my hopes up.’ He laughs. 'Turns out, he was just into heavy metal, but he was a great guy all the same. We ended up dating for nearly a year, actually.' 

Jenny looks up in surprise, and Sam meets her eyes with a steady, reassuring gaze. 'It must be nice to talk to someone your age about this stuff, right?’  
She nods, and smiles with relief. 'It really is. She’s amazing, Dad…' 

When Cas and Eileen come in ten minutes later, Sam’s got his arm around her, and Jenny’s tucked up next to him, describing how she and Maggie met. 

*** 

Jenny’s twenty-seven when she gives birth to twins. 

They’re round her parents’ house now, she and Maggie and the kids. One boy, one girl, called Jack and Rachel. Eileen, Cas and Maggie are sitting on the sofa, Maggie beaming a great big smile as she hands Rachel over to Cas - who takes her gingerly, like she’s made of glass._As if there’s any place safer for the baby than with an honest-to-God angel_, Jenny muses. 

She’s standing in the doorway to the kitchen, smiling fondly at the scene before her. Dad comes over and stands beside her. 'They’re so beautiful. You’ve gotta be so proud.’  
'Yeah,’ she says softly. 'I really am.’  
'I know it’s early days yet, but… Have you thought about how you’ll raise them?’  
She knows exactly what her dad means._Are they gonna hunt?_'We’ve got some idea. It’s not like Maggie and I hunt anymore, but I want them to be able to defend themselves if they run into trouble.’ She looks up at him. 'Was the world always this scary?’  
He chuckles. 'Actually, a long time ago, it was worse. Ask Cas. But I know it never seemed scarier to me than the day you were born.’ He looks over at their family. 'When you’re finally holding that tiny little person in your hands, it’s like all your senses go on hyper-alert. You’re constantly aware of how much in this world is gonna try to hurt them or take them away from you. But you learn to live with that fear - and it’s doable, because the world’s also so much better for them being in it in the first place.' 

She leans against the door frame. 'We’ll find a day to tell them.’  
'Yeah, you will. And they’ll be fine - both before and after you do.’  
A sly smile spreads across her face. 'I tell you something, though. No way are they handling a gun before they’re at least fourteen.’  
Dad laughs. 'Yeah, well, if Maggie disagrees, I hope you have better luck arguing with your wife than I did arguing with mine.' 

*** 

Sam is seventy-eight when he dies for the last time. 

He’s still lucid enough to know that this is the end, and to be surprised he made it this far, actually. If someone had told him when he was young that he’d make it past forty, he’d have thought them dangerously optimistic. Then again, of course, technically he didn’t even make it to twenty-five on his first run. He’s been borrowing time ever since Cold Oak. 

Jenny and Maggie and the twins came over yesterday, to say goodbye even if nobody called it that. His sight isn’t what they used to be, but he could still see how big the twins have grown, and how they nodded with big solemn eyes when he told them that they_always had to look out for each other, promise?_  
Jenny didn’t cry while they were there, not in front of the kids, though her red eyes and strained voice threatened it at every turn. His baby girl grew up so strong and beautiful, so kind and loving. He kept his eyes on her that day, knowing that if there’s any justice in this world - a concept he once found laughable, but he’s regained some faith - it’ll be a long, long time before he sees her again. Maggie had her arm around her when they left, and he felt reassured._She’s going to be okay_, he thought. 

Night is falling now, and Eileen’s already asleep in the chair positioned next to his bed. Cas is on his other side, sitting on the edge of the mattress. Sam remembers what he said to Cas, shortly after they lost Dean._We should stick together now it’s just the two of us_. And they did stick together, though they haven’t been alone for a long time now. Still, it seems fitting that at the end, it’s just the two of them again. Neither of them say a word. 

When Billie walks through the door, the very image of calm, Sam takes ahold of Cas’ hand. 'You decided yet?’  
The angel looks down at him, looking torn, almost panicked. 'No. I still don’t know.’  
'Hey, it’s alright.’ Sam squeezes his hand. 'You’ve got all the time in the world to decide. We’ll still be there whenever you show up, okay? Do what you think is best for you.' 

Billie walks over then, places her hand on Sam’s shoulder. Cas is the last thing he sees. 

*** 

A few days later, Eileen is sitting at the kitchen table. She came in here because it was dinnertime, but she really isn’t hungry. It’s like all of her mind is focused on grief - there’s just no room left to think about things like hunger.

Cas comes in and sits opposite her._How are you doing?_he signs.  
She shrugs._As well as expected._  
He nods, looking down at the table. Something about his demeanour concerns her, so she grasps his arm briefly, and he looks back up._Is something else wrong?_she asks.  
_No_. He hesitates._Nothing I want to burden you with._  
She gives him a mock-glare._None of that. What is it?_

He sighs._I always said that I would return to Heaven when Sam died,_he explains out loud._But now I am… unsure._  
_Why?_  
_You_, he signs._And the children. I am reluctant to leave you all. I want to watch over you._  
She feels a warmth blossom inside her when he says that.But,_ You could do that from Heaven,_she points out.  
_It’s not as easy. And if something bad happens, I cannot always interfere or prevent it.  
You’re scared for us,_she signs._Especially the twins._  
He nods. _There’s so much to protect them from - protection which humans cannot always provide. I should stay._

But Eileen’s sitting in front of someone with the saddest expression she thinks she’s ever seen, and if her heart wasn’t already broken it would break for him right now. 'You think you should stay, but you miss him - you miss both of them.’  
Cas looks up at her._Yes._  
'Then you should go, Cas.’ He starts to protest, but she carries on, and she hopes she comes across more sure than she feels. 'I mean it. You should go. Jenny and Maggie, the twins, me - we’ll all be fine. Billions of people live out their lives without an angel to stop them walking into traffic.’  
_I want to watch over you,_he insists._You are my family.  
But they were your family first,_she signs, smiling gently. 'And I would be willing to bet that Sam told you to think of yourself for once. To do what makes you happy.’

He doesn’t answer that, and she knows she’s right.

A few moments later, he seems to decide. He stands up and holds out his arms, and she obliges, stepping in to embrace him.  
'We love you,’ she says, 'and if you ever stop by Earth again, I’d welcome the visit. I know Jenny would too. But even if you don’t, we’ll still see you again someday.’ She breaks away to look him in the eye. ‘You should go, Cas.’

He steps back, and signs one last thing._Thank you._  
Then he disappears. And although Eileen is saddened at losing another member of her family - especially so soon after losing Sam - she feels the rightness in her very core. Knows this is how it ought to be.

For the rest of her days, it’s not just God she prays to at night.

***

Claire Novak is sixty-four when she sees Castiel for the last time in her life.

He materialises in the corridor and knocks on the living room door. After years of him periodically checking up on her, she isn’t all that surprised, but she does raise an eyebrow. 'Hi there,’ she says. 'You know, the front door does work.’  
'I didn’t want to make you get up,’ he explains, walking over to sit down.  
He looks sad, she realises. 'What’s going on?’  
Castiel sighs. 'Sam passed away last week.’ 

Her face falls. 'I’m sorry,’ she says, and she means it. For all her arguments with the Winchesters, they still became a sort of weird extended family to her. Sam’s stayed in touch all this time, and she’ll miss him.  
Castiel nods in acknowledgement. 'I have decided to return to Heaven. I have said goodbye to Jenny, warned Crowley that I’m still watching over her family… This is my last stop.’ He meets her eyes steadily. 'I wanted to let you know before I leave, because I thought you would want the chance to bury your father.’

She blinks for a moment, before she fully registers that. It’s a while before she can speak. 'I… would like that. Thank you, Castiel.’  
He stands, and before he disappears again, he walks over and puts a hand on her shoulder. 'Take care of yourself, Claire.’

That afternoon, Claire receives a call from the local morgue that someone found her father’s body. As far as they can tell, he died quite a long time ago - his apparent age attests to that - and of natural causes, but he’s been well-preserved somehow, and was only brought in today.

Claire knows the investigation won’t lead anywhere - and she’s fairly certain they’ll release the body to her, because only the circumstances of his appearance were suspicious, not those of his death.  
She heads to the morgue.

***

Sam is thirty-four when he wakes up in his bedroom in the Bunker.

He’s sort of guessing on the age, sort of intrinsically knowing. The mirror shows him he’s about right, and a moment later he remembers - this is how old he was when he lost Dean. It makes a kind of sense, being as they share a heaven, that he’d revert back to that age.  
…He thinks. He doesn’t really understand how this stuff works. Maybe Ash’ll know.

He looks around for a moment, then heads out into the hall. The Bunker is the same as it was when Dean was alive - the old-building smell he came to associate with_home_, the rooms he passes on his way back to the entrance hall.  
The door to Dean’s bedroom is ajar, and he swings it open, but there’s no sign of his brother. Maybe he’s at the Roadhouse, or Bobby’s place, or any number of other heavens. But considering that he hasn’t seen Dean in over forty years, Sam’s feeling remarkably patient. No matter where he is, he’ll have to come back here sometime.

As it turns out, however, Sam doesn’t_have_to be patient. Dean’s in the library, sitting at one of the tables, bent over what appears to be a comic book - something he loved as a kid.  
He turns when he hears Sam approach, then gets to his feet, a disbelieving expression on his face. 'Sam?’  
Sam doesn’t know how Dean knows it’s really him, not a memory, but he honestly doesn’t care. 'Hey, Dean,’ he says, voice rough but steady.  
’_Sammy._’ Dean strides forward, and a moment later his arms are around Sam, and Sam’s hugging back tightly.

He’s had a good life, overall, he reckons. Bizarre as that seems, given the start of it. But a wife, a daughter, grandkids - for a long time there, Sam had the closest thing to a normal, apple-pie life he was ever going to get. And for the vast majority of that time, he was happy.

But this, standing here with Dean, feels like the last piece falling back into place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! As I said before, this fic has a special place in my heart, so please let me know what you thought!

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr:  
silver-latin-and-salt.tumblr.com


End file.
